


Sollux: Go on a coding bender

by YesVirginia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Bipolar Disorder, Brainbent, Gen, Humanstuck, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesVirginia/pseuds/YesVirginia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You think about all the glitches that would come up if your brain was a processor, and wonder what that would make your heart. (Humanstuck AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sollux: Go on a coding bender

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Brainbent is -not- mine, it can be found at brainbent.tumblr.com, but I got the compulsion to write this shoddy drabble for it anyways.

**Sollux: Go on a coding bender.**

You'd like to.

You'd really like to sit down in front of your computer and actually get some work done for once. The PC at your house is expensive, anything to do with electronics or music tends to be, which makes everything else come across as a little worn by comparison. It's more than just a toy.

Too bad that at the moment you only have access to this last-millenium piece of plastic bullshit in the activity room.

You want to make strings of symbols come alive on the screen, convert tension and caffeine into a virus that you won't be sending to anyone because you don't dislike them enough. Or finally finish that pastel-colored platform game that you put on hiatus because the graphics refused to work out.  
You breathe out a weary sigh when your fingers hover over the keys and refuse to move, the ideas are clear as crystal in your head but they won't come _out_.

A virus? Isn't it asinine to make dozens of the damn things just to prove to yourself that you're not just some kid playing at being a Hollywood hacker, but the real deal? And that game is just hipster bullshit, a simple jump 'n' run that won't become any better or more original just because you slapped an ironic pink color scheme on it.

Slumping back in your seat you glower at the screen and wonder why it is so goddamn important to you to be good at this sort of thing. The answer comes easily. It's the counterweight, it's what you place on the other side of the scale when it threatens to tip over with all the things that collect on the side marked con.  
 _"But he's smart and good at programming."_

That sentence, antithesis to all the evidence of the fact that you're a complete failure, is bad. It might even be worse than the thesis that comes before it, all the explanations you have to give or your dads have to give when people notice that something is just _off_ about you. Out of balance. Out of self-control. Sometimes – and it's so counterproductive, it makes you explode with selfhatred after the thought is even fully formed but you can't help it – you resent your biological dad.  
He's just stronger, he has the same problems but he's a really good programmer and not just a weird nerd, he's in a steady (and absolutely sweet, seriously, screw the homophobes) relationship, and he's _coping_. He's better than you. You need to be good at this sort of thing so you can be as good as him, and so that you can have some actual redeeming qualities.

A good friend you aren't, you can't claim that when you talk over people and repeat the same stupid in-jokes no one ever laughs at but you. And then you disappear, acting oblivious to any sort of contact and definitely not attempting any of your own, because who would want to talk to you anyways?

So being good at coding is your redeeming quality, you made it part of your identity, which might explain why you want to put your fist through the monitor, why it makes your thoughts screech with self-deprecating slurs when it just won't _work_. Why you want to smash your hands down on the keyboard until it breaks when your head refuses to let you turn your ideas into actual code even though you're so damn wired.

Wired. You like that word, it makes you think of wires with red and blue plastic casings running through you in place of veins, humming with electricity. It makes you think that you're whirring and clicking when your thoughts are going so fast that you need a radial fan to keep your head cool.

You think about all the glitches that would come up if your brain was a processor, and wonder what that would make your heart. For a while you space out, not really paying attention to the watered-down version of the internet that blocks Cracked and reddit and basically everything else of interest. The error messages would be interesting at least.

 _Couldn't resolve proxy 'HTTP_GET SHIT DONE'._

 _404 – sense of accomplishment not found._

 _Unable to run command '//stop fucking talking'._

You can't help but laugh at those thoughts, even if you're still pissed that nothing is happening and you can't even use the excuse that the computer is shitty. Immediately somebody you didn't even notice hovering is breathing down your neck.

"If you have no other plans but to giggle vacantly at the child security screen all day,"  
Karkat starts, arms crossed in front of him, "then do me a favor and _don't_. Stop hogging the goddamn computer and, I don't know," he throws his hands out at that, gesturing, oversized sleeves flapping, "go jerk off or something."

You try to wave him away but can't help laughing a little, a snide "Bet you'd like to watch," coming out naturally, which makes him sputter and start cursing you in general and your "skinny, diseased nerd body" in such amazingly disgusting intimate detail that you can't help but wonder if he really does devote a lot of his time to thinking about you without clothes on.

"Go away and thtop bothering me if you think I'm tho revolting. I'm writing an email to AA, you're free to drool over Will Thmith'th imdb page when I'm done with that."

People like him, honestly. People like him and the entirely amazing future anthropologist that won't be bothered or annoyed in the slightest and maybe even a little bit happy that you're contacting her. They're a whole lot better than writing shitty platform games when it comes to making you feel like a complete person.


End file.
